Bet On It
by oh-the-linsanity
Summary: Jean isn't too keen on working double-shifts at the tea shop when he could be at a pro-bending But things get a little better when rookie captain Mikasa Ackerman and her team pay a little (Mikasa/Jean)


**notes**: let it be known that on this day I contributed to making the first lok/snk fanfiction on ff net. Puttin' that shit on my resume.

also I know I should be writing other things but shhhhh I do what I want

_Bet On It_

Jean super hated pro-bending tournament days.

There were a few reasons. First and foremost was the fact that instead of attending said pro-bending matches, he spent those days working double-shifts at the tea shop closest to the arena alongside two of the world's greatest bombastic idiots, an Avatar Aang enthusiast by the name of Connie and a food obsessed connoisseur with too much caffeinated tea in her system by the name of Sasha. Secondly, was the cliental they received on such days were enough to even give Petra, their even-tempered boss, grey hairs. Demanding, huffy and eager to either get to the arena for the match or step it home before the satomobile traffic got too bad, the constant rush threw the peaceful tea-shops atmosphere out of balance. Tea was supposed to be calming but pro-bending matches seemed to eliminate that so desperately needed quality from their _black tea two sugars also can you add a little milk to that but it's got to be half-and half otherwise it doesn't set right got all that boy?_

Ugh.

"Oi, Jean!" Sasha screeched in his ear, still all smiles despite the chaos. He pulled from his thoughts and noticed the small tea shop was now accumulating a small line outside. Sasha shoved a tray of three teas in his arms and dashed back toward the kitchen, where a loud clatter had just sounded, followed by curses from Connie, who was currently washing dishes. "Table 3 please!" she cried over her shoulder. Jean heard her melodic laugh and figured Connie must have managed to spill a substantial amount of tea all over himself. Again. For the fourth time today.

Jean did his best to put on a warm smile as he waited on the table, carefully placing the teas in front of each respective customer. But his frustrations had melted away when he noticed who was at the table; it was a regular customer, an old and gentle man by the name of Pixis who regularly tipped Jean and his comrades a hefty amount, even if he only got a single cup of tea. Pixis smiled up at Jean, laying a wrinkled hand on his forearm. "Thank you, boy! Looks perfect!"

He gave a genuine smile to him and his old metalbending police buddies. "Sure thing, sir." He tucked the now empty tray under his arm and leaned forward, resting his free arm along the back of Pixis' chair. "So how was Marco's first day?"

Pixis chuckled. "Got slapped with game security on his first day, poor lad," The other two metalbenders sighed in empathy. "But, I'm sure he enjoyed it nonetheless. He was awfully excited to join the force, you know?"

Jean's pang of jealously that Marco got to attend the game was miniscule compared to the pride he felt knowing that Marco had finally mastered metalbending well enough to join the force. "Trust me, I know—he wouldn't shut up about it," he teased good naturedly, and the older men laughed.

One of the other men leaned toward Pixis, pointing at Jean. "This the boy?" he whispered, but it was anything but quiet.

Pixis nodded sagely. "You bet. Hasn't lost me a single game yet." The older gentleman tugged Jean close, still all smiles. "You listened to the game on the radio, right?"

Jean grinned. "Wouldn't miss it." He tapped the side of his head. "Got all the stats logged right in here! Lion Turtles haven't lost a game yet."

All three men laughed alongside him. "Last game shouldn't even count!" one howled. "Fire Ferrets are nothing without the Avatar and Mako. They dare call themselves a team?"

The four of them threw around petty insults and comments until Pixis tugged Jean even closer. "Alright, what's the bet for this week? Lion Turtles again?"

The young waiter's face scrunched up in thought. So far, betting the games seemed rather easy for him. Because he couldn't attend the matches, Jean usually snuck in with Connie or Sasha to watch their practices in the arena. He had seen his fair share of most of the teams (including the infamous Fire Ferrets, whose new captain could definitely use a pointer or two in leadership) but none stood out quite like the two new rookie teams, the Lion Turtles and the Puma Goats.

The Puma Goats were good. Annie, their firebending captain was the shortest pro-bending player in history, even shorter than the legendary Levi of the Raven Eagles. She was durable, quick and incredibly agile, but she lacked some of the teamwork skills. Her teammates, in immense contrast, were titanic in size. Bertl, the waterbender, was the tallest probender in history, and Reiner, the earthbender, wasn't far behind. They were muscular and strong and sometimes, their size difference led to some troubles in the arena in terms of special awareness. But their strongest attribute by none was physical prowess and bending ability.

The Lion Turtles on the other hand, were just as good, but for vastly different reasons. They certainly appeared different, virtually all the same height and size. Eren Jaeger was energetic and feisty (a bit of an asshole too, if you asked him) with all the spice of a firebender, despite the fact that he was the team's earthbender. The team's waterbender, a quiet blonde by the name of Armin, was a tactical genius. He had the brains of a team leader, but not the authoritarianism required. Still, from watching their practices, Jean knew that it was Armin's plays and ideas that put them in such a good position as a rookie team.

But the best player in the entire team, and the entire league was the team captain and firebending prodigy, Mikasa Ackerman. In his opinion, she had already surpassed Captain Levi's legacy (though, Connie claimed that was his insane crush talking shit). She was ruthless, calm and incredibly creative with her bending. She was producing new moves in the arena that had never been seen before, and it was that element of surprise that caught the other team in a tangle, whilst creating some of the best games to watch since Avatar Korra was probending.

But it was hard to see who would come up on top. Neither team had a lost a game and here they were, going head to head for the championship in two weeks' time. They both had their strengths and weaknesses, but Jean had still yet to decide which ones were crucial to coming out the victor.

"Hmm," Jean finally hummed. "I'm not sure. I'll probably have to mull of the past few games and look at the stats before I can really make a prediction."

"So serious!" Pixis boomed. "All science and theory—no gut feelings," he chided playfully, but he was all smiles. "Well, I won't argue with the man who's been making me so much money!" he took a sip of his tea. "You give me your prediction by the end of the week so I can put in the bet. And," his said, a little softer, "I'm going big next game. If your right, I'll give you half the earnings!"

Jean felt like his eyes nearly fell out of his head. "Seriously!?"

"Am I not a man of my word?"

"You were always my favorite customer," Jean said smoothly, grinning ear to ear.

"Atta boy!" Pixis clapped Jean on the back. "Now, best get back to work before Petra yells at me for distracting you. But send Sasha our way, will you?" Jean nodded, patting Pixis on the head as he strode back to the kitchen, listening as the men argued whether or not they could use the top of his head as a mirror. "Sashaaaaa!" Jean called out, already hustling to bring out the next order. He shouldn't have spent what little time he did talking to Pixis, it really put him in a bind. "The old guys want to hit on you again."

She laughed a great, booming laugh, tossing her ponytail behind her. "They don't mean any harm!" she bounded over, putting an extra sway in her step. "Gentleman! How good to see you all!"

"Sasha!"

"Radiant as ever!"

"Come over and give old Pixis a smooch, right here on the cheek!"

"Leave the girl alone, you old fart!"

"What? It's polite!"

Jean smiled at the antics before he collected the next order and headed to Table 8, where he spotted a bunch of scowling customers, and his smile immediately fell. He glanced outside and figured it was probably going to be another three hours before they closed. Great.

-/-/-/-/-/-

The three hours came and went; by the end of it, Jean, Sasha, Connie and Petra were exhausted. A little more eager than usual, Petra hustled the last few customers out the door and locked it shut with a sigh. "Phew!" she wiped her brow, a smile creeping across her lips. "What a day. But lots of business—good job guys!"

She looked up to scan the room and spotted Connie in a corner table, his chair tipped back as he propped his feet up. He had his apron over his face and Petra thought she vaguely heard the sounds of snoring. Sasha was nowhere to be seen, most likely in the back cleaning—she always volunteered to clean the kitchen so she could eat the leftover pastries. Jean was the only one who looked up from sweeping, reciprocating Petra's tired smile. "Thanks," he said weakly, before he suddenly dropped the broom and collapsed in the nearest chair—Connie woke with a start from the sound and fell out of the chair, and they could hear Sasha laughing in the back, mouth full of food. "Man, I'm beat." Jean said, rubbing the back of his neck. He closed his eyes in an attempt to relax for a few minutes; he didn't notice Petra already shrugging her coat on, heading for the back entrance.

"Okay now just remember to lock up, put all the money away, make sure everything's spick and span for when Gunter and Erd come in for their shift tomorrow okay thanks guys bye!" Her words were rushed, falling out of lip-stick stained lips which were framed by blushing cheeks.

Jean groaned. "Where's she off to lately?" he complained. He thought about getting up, but decided to slouch further in the seat. If Petra could slack, then so could he.

"She's on a daaaaaate!" Sasha cooed, emerging from the kitchen. Jean noticed the powdered sugar on her apron and face as she licked her sticky fingers clean. "She's dating that pro-bending dude, the real famous one."

Jean quickly ran through the names of all the current well-known players in his head, but they all seemed too young for Petra. Then he thought of the legends. "…Levi?" he asked, skeptical. Surely that couldn't—

"The real short dude?" Connie intervened. "He comes in here sometimes—he always gets real anal about the tables. They're just never _clean _enough," he grumbled, resentment clearly evident. "Yeah, apparently, he and Petra have known each other for…" Connie's eyes drifted to the ceiling in thought. "…_forever." _He decided.

"It's _super duper _cute!" Sasha squealed, picking up the broom from the floor. She began twirling it around and dancing with it to the faint sounds of the radio echoing jazz music in the back. "Oh my god, what if they get _married!?" _she sighed dreamily. "It would be so romantic."

Jean shrugged. He didn't even know Levi and Petra were seeing each other, so it didn't really matter to him. "I guess."

Sasha swung the broom at Jean, lightly hitting him in the back of the head, yet he still complained. "You don't have a romantic bone in your body, do you?" she accused. She cocked her head towards Connie. "Dude, we have to do something about Jean if he's ever going to get a pro-bender of his own."

Jean blushed a deep red. "Shut up," he groused. "It's not like I'm ever going to meet her or anything. I can't even get my ass to a game, remember?"

She shrugged and went back to dancing with the broom. "Who knows!" she sung. "Love works in mysterious waaaaays." She twirled once, twice, before bumping into a table and stubbing her toe.

But while they all laughed at her misfortune, fate had a funny way of knocking on Jean's front door—literally. He looked up to find three people outside the glass window of the shop, uniformed and covered in sweat, but with smiles of victory on their faces.

_No way…_

Sasha was the first to snap him out of it. "Dude! That's them, right? The Lion Turtles?" Sasha discreetly tried getting a good look with them without acknowledging they were they—the shop was technically closed and she didn't really feel like putting on the kettle, even for a group of celebrities.

But if _Jean _wanted to invite them in that would be totally okay.

"Go tell them we're closed," Sasha said, bounding to the back, grabbing Connie on her way.

"But—I—Sasha!" he sputtered. His two comrades ignored his discomfort and went to the back to no doubt finish off the leftover food and do a shit job at cleaning the dishes. "Guys!"

The three athletes knocked on the door, and when Jean looked back he saw the three of them arguing quietly, Armin tugging on Eren's sleeve, no doubt suggesting that they leave. But Jean was able to snap out of it soon enough to bound over and unlock the door.

It was Mikasa who spoke, and it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

"Are you still open?" she asked.

It was tough for Jean to stand at this point. He had never been so close to her, never heard her voice so clearly. She was prettier than the posters depicted her; she had an aura of class and authority. She seemed regal and calm and intelligent and _perfect and he should really say something._

"Uhhh," he stuttered. He tried to say actual words, but that just wasn't happening.

Eren snickered, and bumped Mikasa's shoulder. "Looks like you have another fan, sis."

Armin tugged on Mikasa's sleeve. "I don't think it's open, it's really late—" he turned to Jean and offered an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, we were trying to wait until the crowds died down, we didn't mean to intrude—"

Jean stepped back and cocked his head toward the tables inside. "Come on in," he said. "I'll put on a kettle."

Eren smiled, mouth open to say his thanks, and headed inside, but Mikasa quickly grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and pulled him back. "No, you don't have to do that. If you're closed, you're closed."

Jean shrugged. "Nah, it's fine, really. We haven't started cleaning up much—" as if on some disastrous cue, the four of them heard Connie and Sasha drop a pan in the back. "—and knowing those idiots, it'll take some time. So come in, it's really not a problem."

Mikasa nodded her thanks and the three teammates walked into the shop. Quietly, Jean watched as all three settled into some seats by the far right next to the window. Eren was still riled up from the win, and even though Armin was much more composed, he could see the happiness glittering in his eyes. Mikasa sported a soft smile, tucking her face into her scarf and slouching in her chair as she listened to her brother and her teammate go on about the game.

"It was insane! And then when Mikasa did that double-spin! She really got that waterbender by surprise. Hey—what'd you think of it?"

Jean looked up from behind the counter and noticed all three looking at him. They wanted his opinion? "Me? Oh. I uh, I didn't see the match. Sorry."

Eren clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, but Armin smacked him anyway. "Don't be rude! Some people have real, respectable jobs—like him."

Before Jean even got a chance to explain that making hot leaf juice could not possible be considered a real job, Eren spoke up. "Our jobs are real!"

"Debatable," Mikasa chimed in, but she smiled all the same. She turned to Jean. "Hey, can we get some jasmine tea, if it's not too much trouble?"

"On it," Jean nodded. The Lion Turtles continued to chat about their win, and Jean did his best to eavesdrop despite the hot water kettle whistling in his ear. He vaguely wondered if making tea would be any easier if he were a firebender as he listened to Armin talk about how they were sloppy in the last round.

"We have trouble when we're so far apart—we need to work on communication when we're all in different zones, you know?" Armin suggested.

"It's especially bad when two of us are in zone 1 and the _other _one is all the way back in zone 3." Eren teased, causing Armin to blush red in embarrassment. Jean rather thought he looked like he was about to retaliate, but the blond just bowed his head and mumbled something unintelligible.

"He joined the team last minute," Mikasa reminded him. "Unlike a certain little brother who's been 'training' for his rookie debut a year and a half in advance." She reached out and flicked Eren on the side of his head. "And until you can start contributing to new team plays, you should lighten up."

Eren scowled and went for retaliation for the head-flick, reaching for her red scarf and giving it a good tug. "Lighten up? Fighting words for a girl with a stick up her ass!" Eren laughed, but he bit it back when Mikasa stepped on his toes. He yelped, and Armin burst out laughing, his embarrassment from the previous comments gone.

Jean finished the tea and wandered back over to the table, and set each cup in front of them as the team went back to talk strategy. "What we need to do is figure out a better way to do those combos," Mikasa said. "We need to be quicker between each attack or—"

"I think you should switch."

All three looked up and stared at Jean, who had started cleaning the table next to them, concentrating on ridding the tabletops of the rings left by some of the tea cups. "I mean, I think some of your tendencies are becoming apparent—maybe not to the audience or some of the less talented teams, but I'm sure the Puma Goats have noticed." He continued scrubbing away at the tables, not noticing how the three teammates were eying him critically. "You usually lean toward an Earth-Fire combo, but I think if you try some with water, or even doing some other order, you'll throw off the Puma Goats, who are most likely prepared to fight you guys' typical combos and ordering."

Silence slipped through the tea shop, save the squeaking of Jean's rag before Armin spoke up. "Wow. That's quite some insight."

Eren scoffed. "Eh, what does he know? Sounds like a bunch of—"

"No, shh," Mikasa interrupted, and the boys looked over to her unusually enthralled. "He has a good point." She paused, shifting her weight in her seat to lean forward, elbows on the table. "What do you suggest?"

Jean sighed and propped his weight against the table, his hands running through his hair. "Well," he huffed. "You definitely need more water-techniques. I'd try more Earth-Water combos, with some fire in there for more surprises and finishing effects—you'll need it against Annie."

Mikasa nodded, looking at Armin. "Does that make sense?"

He hummed. "Hmm, yeah, it does! I think that's a good suggestion. I just don't know if I can pull it off."

"You can," Jean answered quickly. "I think you should work on my long shots, especially seeing as you do end up in the third zone a lot—it doesn't have to be a weakness. But make sure you stay away from Bert—he doesn't make as many water whips as you, but his pack a shit more punch."

"Anything else?" Mikasa asked.

"Eren. Annie usually falters most heavily against earth attacks, so focus his attacks on her. She also, ironically, doesn't do well against her own element as well, so Mikasa would do fine with her too. But keep Armin away from her—she's good at dodging and defusing water." He tapped his chin in thought. "Reiner's a straight shoot across the board, a solid player—his defense is some of the best in the league, so the best way to knock him back is by getting him to lose his balance or obstruct his view. Toss Bert into him, if you can."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Eren said, throwing his hands in the air. His expression screamed skepticism, mixed with confusion. Jean was throwing out a lot of terms and details he wasn't even aware existed in pro-bending matches. A new appreciation for Armin's plays began creeping up. "How do you know all this? You don't even attend the games!"

Jean looked away. "I listen on the radio," he headed back to the back and peeked into the kitchen—it looked like Sasha and Connie had taken a break and gone out back for a while—probably playing a few street games with the orphans that hang around the arena after the game. He returned a few minutes later with pastries Sasha hadn't gotten to yet, which the players took graciously. "Ever thought about playing the sport yourself?" Eren asked, mouth full of cake.

"I'd love to but," Jean shrugged. "I'm not a bender."

"…Oh."

The quiet was uncomfortable, but Armin was quick to salvage the situation. "Well, I bet you could still be a coach. There's a lot of money in coaching!"

Jean laughed a polite laugh and scratched his cheek. "Eh, no one looks twice at a non-bender in a bending world."

He didn't mean anything by his words, not anything too seriously. It was true when it came to pro-bending, and he could (grudgingly) accept that. If he were a pro-bender, he'd be highly against hiring a non-bending coach. What do non-benders know about how to play a bending sport? On the surface, it was a harmless, rational comment. But as Jean saw the faces of guilt-stricken pro-benders, he realized his comment might have seemed bitter, especially with the still-lingering anti-bender sentiment wafting through the city. Amon was dead and the equalists were no longer terrorizing benders, but that didn't mean the inequalities that existed were eradicated. So when Jean looked at their faces, he saw a different mix of embarrassment, discomfort, and even fear that he might produce an electric glove or chi-block them or take away the bending that was their very life and essence. "It's really not a big deal," Jean explained, lips stretched in a friendly smile. "Turns out tea is my calling."

"You do a very good job," Mikasa supplied, downing her cup in one gulp. He wanted to laugh—she was treating the stuff like liquor. It was kind of adorable. "Legendary stuff."

Outside, Jean heard Sasha and Connie with the kids before he saw them round the front of the tea shop to play in the street—there was more space, especially since they were widened for the arena. The two teens were kicking a ball around; Sasha and Connie weren't benders, but the kids were all earthbenders, and he heard various complaints about "cheating" and "if you kick a rock-ball at me one more time I'll throw you in the bay." But it was all in good sport.

Until the large, rubber ball went hurdling through the tea shop window.

"Get down!" Jean didn't know what happened; in two seconds he went from standing in the balls way to being forcefully thrown down on to the ground. In a reflex, his arms wrapped around her as they hit the floor, the wind instantly knocked out of him. He was glad he had an actual excuse to wheeze and cough, because seeing as the prettiest girl in the entire city was lying on top of him, he probably would have fainted anyway.

"Are you okay?" Mikasa whispered breathlessly. "Sorry, that was a little overdramatic, I guess I got carried away."

He laughed a laugh that shook them both. "I always wanted a girl to knock me off my feet." And he was rather pleased to see the blush bloom on her face. She scurried to get up, offering her hand, which he took. Jean looked at the mess of scattered glass before his eyes drifted outside through the broken window, where he saw Connie, Sasha, and the orphans frozen in fear.

"Guys," Jean said sternly. "Who was the one that kicked the ball?"

As expected, Sasha and Connie took the fall—simultaneously. "It was me!" they both shouted, looking at each other when they realized their mistake. "I mean—"

"Hey, it's Armin!" one orphan said, tugging on another one of her friend's sleeves. The pair of them looked about ten years old. "From the Lion Turtles!"

Another girl gasped. "And Eren!"

"They're so cute!"

"Mr. Eren, can I have your autograph?"

"Armin, can I give you a hug?"

"Forget hugs, can I give you both a kiss?"

Eren laughed as Armin blushed deeply at the last comment. Eren through his arm around his male companion and shook him. "Looks like we've got some fans, come on!"

Armin looked like he was about to protest, but Eren leaned in and whispered something in his ear Jean couldn't catch. But whatever it was immediately had Armin relaxed, and the pair of them went out to meet the young orphan girls who apparently had a strong interest in pro-bending.

"Here, I'll clean up," Mikasa suddenly said, bending down to get the broom.

"Huh?" Jean blurted out, diving to grab it before she could. "Don't be silly. This is in no way your fault."

But for some reason, Mikasa stood there, expression completely guilty. She pointed to the top of his head and nodded; Jean ran his fingers through his hair and across his forehead when he finally felt what she must have seen—a sizeable cut from his fall, a piece of glass in there. He winced.

She stepped over the mess and swatted his hand away. "Don't pick at it," she chided. She stepped on the tips of her toes and started to try and get the glass out, her calloused fingers tapping against his temple and forehead. "There," she got it out and chucked it to the ground. "Just make sure you clean it and wrap it up when you get home, okay?"

He nodded before he started sweeping up the glass into a corner. "Aren't you going to go out there and meet your fans as well?"

She looked back up and saw the majority of the kids surrounding Eren and Armin. Mikasa smiled ear to ear as she saw Sasha pick up the smallest girl of the bunch and watched as the little girl planted a quick kiss on Armin's cheek—the group laughed.

"Nah, I think they're fine," she said gently. Mikasa continued to watch, this time even laughing when Connie went in to kiss Eren's cheek; he wasn't so receptive, and the kids all laughed when Eren shoved Connie to the ground. "It must be interesting working with those two."

Jean laughed. "Sure is. Never a boring day with them around." He sighed. "I'm really gonna miss them."

"Miss them?" Mikasa repeated.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Connie's probably going to join the acolytes soon and Sasha," he chuckled softly, shaking his head side to side. "She comes and goes. She doesn't like to stay put for so long."

"Must be nice," Mikasa mused, finally looking away from the kids. "I've never left this city. I never could. My brother and I, we were orphans, we—" she paused and closed her eyes, tugging at her red scarf. "I wanted to pro-bend my entire life. But I never knew if I could do it. But two years ago, when Mako and Bolin debuted and made it to the finals, it gave us hope. For me, and probably for them," she nodded her head to the orphans.

"Is that why you wear a red scarf?"

Mikasa smiled. "Yeah. It's a symbol. He and I came from the same place—it's not just a fluke. Anyone can make it." She looked back up at him. "Orphans or rich kids, city people or country folk; even a non-bender can be a great bending coach."

"Thanks," he whispered. "That means a lot, coming from you." Mikasa smiled wider, a smile that reached her eyes, and he decided she made charcoal look beautiful. "Same to you, you know."

"Hmm?"

The radio playing in the back started playing an upbeat jazzy tune and Jean started to twirl around with the broom in a mock jive that had Mikasa hiding giggles behind her fist. "Anyone can make tea!" he exclaimed, and daringly winked at her. "Like I said, those two idiots probably won't be around for long—we have a spot opeeeennn!" he sung.

She chuckled lightly, but whether it was at his dancing or his suggestion, he didn't really know. "I'll consider it. But only," Jean stopped with the dancing, puzzled. "If you come to a pro-bending tournament first."

"I'd love to but I can't afford—"

Mikasa fished through her pocket and produced two tickets. "My friends get in for free," she told him, and he couldn't help it. The way her hair fell into her eyes as she looked flustered, the way her smile sat crooked on her face, everything about her had him drop the broom and pick her up, whooping and hollering.

"I can't believe this! I finally get to go to a game!" He twirled her around once, twice, before he set her down and took her hands in his, and started guiding her around the shop, trying to dance. But it was apparent that not only was she completely taken off-guard and flustered, but Mikasa Ackerman, captain of the Lion Turtles, and firebender extraordinaire didn't know how to dance. "Aw, come on!" Jean protested. "Surely you know how to dance!"

Mikasa looked at her feet, trying not to step on his feet. "Dancing is stupid." She grumbled, and Jean abruptly stopped and gently dropped her hands. He took two steps back and bowed dramatically.

"My apologies, Milady," he offered his hands this time. "Allow me to try again. May I have this dance?"

She shook her head. "This is ridiculous."

"I'll teach you! I'm a really good teacher! You just said so."

"Coaching, I said coaching!"

"Same thing!"

She sighed, hands on her hips. Finally, with a roll of her eyes, she took two steps forward, stuffed the tickets in the pocket of his apron. "One thing first."

"And what's that?"

Mikasa looked up at him. "What's your name?"

He smiled, stepping forward and took her hands in his. "Jean." As the jazzy song switched over to a softer ballad, he pulled her close and started swaying and spinning to the music. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. "Don't worry—this will help you with pro-bending."

She sounded genuinely surprised as she asked, "Really?"

"Oh yes," he nodded enthusiastically. "There have been studies—dancing improves shitty balance!" he teased. She smacked him upside the head, but they laughed anyway.

-/-/-/-/-/-

_"You've called officer Dot Pixis, metalbending police. What can I do for you?"_

_"Hey, Pixis? It's me, Jean."_

_"Jean! How nice to hear from you. What's up?"_

_"Just wanted to tell you to put it all on the Lion Turtles."_

_"…You got it, kid."_

-/-/-/-/-/-

Two weeks later, Pixis gave Jean half his earnings, as promised.


End file.
